101 Ways for Luke to Forget His Name
by Mrs Dionysius O'Gall
Summary: 101 Ways for Luke to Forget His Name…and Remember Hers. Lorelai, a hair salon, and the October 2005 issue of Cosmo.


Three or four times a year, Lorelai gets her hair cut. Cindy is Lorelai's usual girl, and is cutting Lorelai's wet hair. She's already done the requisite ooh'ing over Lorelai's ring, washed Lorelai's hair, and done that scalp-massaging thing she does so well, the one that makes Lorelai think she's in Tahiti.

For a change, her customer has actually given her instructions. Keep the hair long.

"Hey, hand me that, will ya please?" Lorelai asks, pointing to a stack of magazines in the corner.

"This?" Cindy quietly slips her the October issue of Cosmo as Lorelai nods in acknowledgement. Lorelai's been using Cindy for years, except for that one time she cheated on her with Lee Ann, and that doesn't really count because she had to leave with wet hair to take care of the sink guy.

But Cindy's long since forgiven her and so Lorelai feels comfortable concentrating on the magazine. As Lorelai flips through the pages, she intermittently looks in the mirror, satisfied that Cindy's following her instructions to just cut the tippity-tips off the ends.

It has been a long time since her last cut. Luke, truth be told, loves her hair longer. He'd never admit to it, but he spends a lot of time with his fingers entwined in it. Not diner-time, but at-home-time. She swears he's almost playing Cat's Cradle with it at times. Doing the laundry…hands in her hair when he sneaks up behind her and presses his hips to hers. Discussing finances…hands in hair, as he leans over her as she does their books. Subtly hinting he'd like to get it on…hands entwined in hair. Post-orgasm…hands in her hair.

And touching is not all that he does with her hair. He inhales it, buries his face in it and literally inhales. He loves the way it feels tickling his chest when she's on top.

'6 Sexy Games to Play with Him Tonight,' screams the article on page 32. She starts reading, realizes there's no way Luke'd ever play the Q&A games described in the article. And she's not going to be that kind of girlfriend, no fiancée, who makes her man take all the girl magazine quizzes. Plus, she knows all his answers already. Number 3: "Have lots of fun appetizers OR have one amazing gourmet dish?" Dirty, she thinks, because he's always been a one-dish kind of guy.

'101 Sex Tips: Mattress Moves So Good He'll Forget His Name...but Remember Yours Forever.' Now THAT article catches Lorelai's attention, and her mind wanders to Luke's other favorite hair-playing moments, all of which happen to be in bed. Yep, he especially loves playing with her hair during sex.

Sex with Luke. Definitely no complaints in that department. No complaints at all. She's won the Powerball and every other lottery on the planet as far as she's concerned. When she told him that he was the perfect man, she wasn't exaggerating. Especially not in that department. What more could a girl want?

Lorelai looks up into the mirror, smiling. The trimming of her hair is almost done. She tilts her chin to the right, and gives a quick shake of the head. Cindy steps back; she knows this move. Checking that the hair flip is still there.

Lorelai thinks back to the day when Luke's sister talked about being married most of her life. "Ever think, if you got married today or even in the next few years, you could be married for fifty years -- for most of your life." Lorelai giggles quietly: she'll hopefully be having sex with Luke for fifty years, for most of her life.

There's something about Luke, something that makes him so not boring. The Luke that Lorelai gets is not the Luke that, say, Miss Patty gets…Closed-door Luke continues to surprise Lorelai.

Not that he doesn't have his weird habits.

Take the making-of-the-bed thing, for example. The man is incapable of getting into an unmade bed. If he comes home in the middle of the day and has a chance, he'll make the bed. He even makes the bed five minutes before they turn in for the night.

Bed-making aside, Luke is a considerate and, thank every deity that anyone could possibly worship, enthusiastic lover. It always goes like this: Luke closes and locks the door behind them ("Geez, what if…Kirk…or Rory…"). Luke has a way about him that makes her feel both in control and out of control. She can flip the hair and get him to do anything she wants, but then there's the times she looks into his eyes, his soft blue eyes, and all control flies straight out the door. And then there's almost-psycho Luke, a very controlling 'do this now' Luke, who doesn't come out to play very often, but when he does, has a way of reducing Lorelai to, she blushes as she remembers a certain night or two or three, his very willing sex slave.

And the best thing about it, is that she never has to worry about who's in control. Luke, or her…it's all for the both of them, and always good. She simply can't imagine being with anyone other than Luke. Most of all, she feels safe with him in every way.

Once the door is shut and secured, they make it to the bed or whichever surface they'll be using. And it's never silent in their house. Silence is freaky and eerie and so not like Lorelai. Luke's great about tolerating whichever CD's playing, and ever since Paul Anka came into their lives, really wonderful about not making him feel bad about the door being shut.

Their clothes are discarded, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. Luke's a great undresser. Her mom, Lorelai hates to admit, wasn't far off the mark that time she mentioned that he was looking at her like she was a porterhouse steak. Luke definitely doesn't like it when she takes off her own clothes. Instead, he'll either approach her like a gourmet dinner…or like…well, diner food.

Nothing that Luke does is overtly sexual, but somehow it ends up utterly sensual.

Lorelai looks up again; Cindy has begun blowing her hair. The dull high-wattage roar of the salon dryer makes quick work of Lorelai's hair. Which gets Lorelai to thinking, why is Luke so damn quiet during sex?

Sure, she knew he was master of the monosyllable. And yes, it can't be said enough, sex with Luke is beyond her or any Cosmo girl's imagination. But would it kill him to do more than just occasionally grunt? Lorelai loves the sound of her own voice just as much as the next girl, but…

101 Ways…hmmm. Maybe one of those will inspire him to be more vocal.

Lorelai suddenly startles Cindy by ripping out the article. "Yeah, I know I've broken the sacred rules of salon etiquette, but…"

"S'ok," Cindy answers, "It's last month's issue anyways…"

Cindy's begun styling her hair, smoothing the long locks through a big round brush.

Lorelai smoothes the article and starts reading the 101 ways…

101 Ways. All suggested by real men. And in list form.

She's in heaven. She can just go down the list, try each thing and cross it off as they do it.

Maybe she'd better practice.

#1: make a circle with your tongue against his skin, at the spot right behind his ear.

Well, there goes the practice idea, no wait! Lorelai'll pretend that the back of her hand is the back of Luke's neck. So she brings her left hand up to her mouth and surreptitiously draws tiny circles with the tip of her tongue.

Eh. Maybe it will feel better behind a guy's ear.

Cindy reaches for the can of hair spray.

"Uh, ix nay on the hair spray, Cindy," Lorelai speaks up.

Luke hates hair spray. He has an especially fabulous rant on the subject, which combines global warming, the ozone layer, lung cancer and the way the residue keeps his fingers from sliding through her hair.

"Still $37?" Lorelai asks.

"Yep," Cindy replies as Lorelai fills out a check and hands it to her.

As Lorelai leaves the salon, she flips her hair; damn, it feels good. Walking to her jeep, she reaches into her purse for her keys and finds the article.

"101 ways…"

She doesn't need 101 ways to keep Luke interested. Hair flip, check. Black dress, check. She looks at her engagement ring and smiles. Crushing the article into a ball, she tosses it into the curbside trashcan, flips her hair, and heads for the diner. She doesn't need some incessantly babbling guy; she needs the one who'll always be there.


End file.
